


Three Times Albus Got In Trouble Over Scorpius and One Time He Didn't

by BookNerdScorpius (Hikarinimichitasora)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Albus gets into trouble a lot after the events of Cursed Child, And it's always defending Scorpius even if the other doesn't know about it, M/M, Slightly asshole!Snape, mentions rumors of incest very very briefly and they are untrue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 11:20:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7638100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hikarinimichitasora/pseuds/BookNerdScorpius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Albus has decided it's time to fight back against Scorpius' detractors, but he just keeps on getting caught doing it or 'How Albus got advice from two dead Headmasters who were his namesake and finally owned up to his feelings'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Times Albus Got In Trouble Over Scorpius and One Time He Didn't

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick fic about Albus getting into trouble for defending Scorpius and getting advice from the portraits of certain Headmasters. First foray into Potterfic.

1.

  


The paintings in McGonagall’s office showed the great headmasters of the past. Albus had seen them once, and once only, sat beside his parents and Scorpius, bitter, fuelled by adrenaline, angry, scared and more than anything, so grateful he was alive.

  


When his father had told of his adventures, he had never mentioned how many emotions he’d felt. Harry Potter didn’t tell him about the terror that would seep into his bones, or the surging, rushing relief that a friend was okay. Thinking about it, his father had never really told Albus much about the things that had made him famous. Albus had learned those things from other people.

  


But now he sat here again, staring up at the portraits on the wall while he waited for Professor McGonagall to scold him for cursing Rose’s broom so every time she got on it, it turned into a kettle and sent steam… well… somewhere that no one wouldn’t generally want steam sent.

  


“Albus Severus Potter,” a voice said. Albus looked up at the portraits once more, scanning amongst the snoozing headmasters of the past to find the one who had spoken to him. Only two remained awake, the two most recent.

  


The blue twinkling eyes of Albus Dumbledore peered at him over half-moon spectacles. The dark, harrowing eyes of Severus Snape peered over a hooked nose. Albus shifted in his seat.

  


“I’m about to be told off by McGonagall. I don’t want to be told off by you too,” he said. Dumbledore looked amused, but Snape looked disgusted. Albus regarded him carefully.

  


Although he shared his first name with Dumbledore, he was always more intrigued by his father’s choice to name him after Severus Snape. They were both Slytherins and Albus somewhat hoped that he was more like his namesake than his father ever let on.

  


Not that he’d ever had a chance to talk to Snape before.

  


“Last time I saw you, you were very much worse for wear in the hospital wing. I am glad to see you full of life and vitality again. A little less surly too,” Dumbledore said, his voice grandfatherly and full of light teasing. Albus scowled at him. He didn’t want to remember that night, the night his father had banned him from seeing Scorpius was not a pleasant memory at all.

  


“A typical Potter, getting into trouble all the time and costing my House points,” Snape sneered and Albus turned from Dumbledore to him, regarding him carefully.

  


“I’m sure you never lost any points for Slytherin either,” he snapped back. Snape scowled at him.

  


“I was a Professor at this school and you will address me as ‘sir’,” he said, eyes dark and intent. Albus stared him down.

  


“Now, now, Severus. Don’t be too hard on the boy. From what I hear, he managed to cause quite a disturbance to the Gryffindor Quidditch practice. You should be proud,” Dumbledore said, turning slightly in his portrait to view Snape. The dark-haired man sniffed.

  


“Such a Weasley-esque prank is below a Slytherin,” he said. Albus rolled his eyes.

  


“Only because I got caught. If I hadn’t, you’d have thought it was brilliant,” he replied. Snape’s eyes glinted.

  


“You’ve inherited all the worst qualities of a Potter and a Weasley, I see,” he said, but the corners of his mouth had pulled upwards somewhat. Albus wasn’t sure what to make of him at all. There seemed to be nothing likable about the man’s personality, and yet Albus had heard and read so many things about him that he wondered if perhaps he was even talking to the right man?

  


But Dumbledore had called him Severus, so it had to be, right?

  


“Sorry to keep you waiting, Mr Potter,” McGonagall entered at that point, her face stern as she sat down. Albus tore his gaze away from the portraits.

  


“I have collected the statements from those involved. Madame Pomfrey says the steam was hot enough to be unpleasant but not enough to scald. You’re exceptionally lucky, because otherwise another year’s worth of detentions would have been heading your way,” McGonagall said primly, laying some parchments on the desk that were no doubt testimonies from the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

  


“You will, instead, be serving detention for a month, where you will be helping Madam Hooch with all the necessary upkeep of the Quidditch pitch. And you will do it the Muggle way,” she said. Albus nodded. If he accepted it, maybe McGonagall wouldn’t write home. His father had been more understanding since…  _ since _ . But things were still far from perfect. There were still times when they just couldn’t  _ see _ each other.

  


“Can I ask you a question Potter?” McGonagall asked. Albus tilted his head a little.

  


“Of course Professor,” he said. He heard Snape snort behind McGonagall but didn’t look up.

  


“Why did you curse Granger-Weasley’s broom? And so obviously so that she’d know it was you?” McGonagall asked. “I thought you far more clever than that.”

  


Albus looked down. He knew the reason why. Because Scorpius had been practicing all year to get on the Quidditch team. Because Scorpius had finally done it when another Slytherin Chaser got injured. Because Rose had finally agreed to go on a date with Scorpius. Because Scorpius wouldn’t be able to win against Rose. Because…

  


Because…

  


“It seemed funny at the time,” he said. McGonagall gave him a long look.

  


“Well, see that it does not seem ‘funny’ to you in future. Off you go Mr Potter,” she gestured at the door. Albus left without a backwards glance.

  


2.

  


“Back again, Potter?” Snape sneered. Albus sunk into the seat McGonagall offered him. Her lips were pursed, her back ramrod straight. Her wand was still clutched tightly in her hand.

  


Albus’ lip was bleeding and he kept dabbing it on the sleeve of his robe.

  


“Brawling,” McGonagall said, the fury evident in her voice. “Muggle-style  _ brawling _ .”

  


“Has as much class as his father, I see,” Snape drawled. Albus glared up at the portrait.

  


“Severus, I’d appreciate it if you stayed out of this one,” McGonagall snapped. Beside Severus, Dumbledore’s portrait was quietly snoozing. Albus wasn’t sure if that was a blessing or not.

  


“A student in my house, taking part in  _ muggle _ brawls? At least he could have had the class to use his  _ wand _ ,” Snape replied. McGonagall turned in her chair and the look she gave the portrait was so fierce that Snape seemed to suddenly find somewhere else to be.

  


“So… what was it this time?” McGonagall asked, resting her palms flat against the table. Albus sank a little in his chair.

  


“He said something about Scorpius,” he muttered. “About how he only gets to fly on the Quidditch team because everyone feels sorry for him for having a dead mum.”

  


McGonagall’s steel seemed to dull somewhat.

  


“That was not mentioned in the accounts,” she said. Albus gripped the arms of the chair tightly. “Does Mr Malfoy know what was said?”

  


“No. I don’t think he should know,” Albus said quietly. “It’d only hurt him.”

  


“I fear this will not be the last time you get into trouble defending the virtue of Mr Malfoy, but at least this time you shall have a milder punishment,” McGonagall assured him. “Now, run along to Madame Pomfrey and get that lip seen to Mr Potter.”

  


Albus didn’t need telling twice. He saw that Dumbledore’s portrait had woken and was watching him, a curious expression on his face. He didn’t wait around for the ex-Headmaster’s words of wisdom.

  


3.

  


“ _ Really _ Mr Potter? Again? Can you not defend your friend with your  _ mouth _ and not your wand?” McGonagall said. This time, Albus hadn’t been so lucky that she hadn’t owled his father. He knew that there was going to be an uncomfortable conversation to be had, one he wasn’t prepared for and that he wasn’t going to even try to engage with.

  


McGonagall pinched the bridge of her nose.

  


“Wait here. I will escort your father up here when he has… finished talking to your brother,” McGonagall said as she swept out of the room.

  


James had got into trouble too, this time. It had been, for the first time that Albus could remember, the Potter brothers against the world. Albus wasn’t quite sure  _ why _ James had decided that time to come down on Scorpius’ side, but there had been a fierceness to him.

  


“Mum told me a few things,” James had said, panting afterwards, though  _ what _ she had said was left ambiguous. Albus hadn’t had time to question him before Professor Longbottom had swept down on them and escorted James back to the Gryffindor Tower with promises of detentions and Albus up to McGonagall’s office. As was usually the case with how often he’d got in trouble recently.

  


“Ah, so you’re back here again, Albus,” Dumbledore said. Albus looked up at him. Snape and Dumbledore stared down at him from the walls. For once, Albus wasn’t seated, and so he walked around the desk in the center of the room to face up to them himself.

  


“I know what Snape is about to say. I’m not Slytherin enough if I keep getting caught,” Albus said, folding his arms. Dumbledore smiled and Snape just rolled his eyes.

  


“Certainly, you are rather good at causing a commotion. Though I imagine that half of what happens does not make it back to the Professors,” Dumbledore replied mildly. Albus allowed a thin smile to stretch across his face.

  


“I wouldn’t admit to it even if it were true,” he replied. He saw Snape’s gaze change to be appraising instead of dismissive.

  


“You are loyal to your friend. Remarkably so. I rarely see such loyalty amongst classmates,” Dumbledore commented.

  


“It’s not fair that Scorpius gets treated the way he does over nothing. He’s the kindest person I know,” Albus said stubbornly. Dumbledore nodded.

  


“I don’t doubt it, my boy. When I was a teen, I, too, had strong bonds with my friends. Ones that sometimes blinded me to the correct course of action,” he said. Albus frowned.

  


“What’s the ‘correct course of action’? I’m not going to sit by and let people just say whatever they want! Especially after last year. No one knows what we went through and even if I told them, they wouldn’t understand. I have to protect him!” Albus replied, looking up indignant. Dumbledore rearranged his robes.

  


“Perhaps, sometimes, the best course of action is honesty. Though perhaps it is not honesty with the young Malfoy’s detractors that is the problem here,” he said. Albus frowned.

  


“I don’t understand what you mean,” he said stubbornly. Snape made a scoffing sound.

  


“The Headmaster is trying to tell you to tell the Malfoy boy your  _ feelings _ , Potter. And then perhaps you will be able to protect him in a better way than giving people bloody noses,” Snape said and even though the words were blunt, the tone was not unkind.

  


Albus’ mouth fell open.

  


“How do you...I didn’t tell  _ anyone!” _ he protested. Snape let out a sigh.

  


“Every generation thinks they’re the first ones to come through school fancying someone,” he deadpanned. Dumbledore chuckled.

  


“You would be surprised what people say, when they think there’s nothing but portraits to hear them,” he said. Albus wondered what he had said aloud, though he could recall nothing.

  


“I don’t want to spoil our friend-”

  


“Mr Potter, if you’ll take a seat. Harry, you too, I believe this will take a while,” McGonagall had stepped back into the room.

  


Albus remained stubbornly silent through the meeting, the knowing eyes of two Headmasters watching him from the portraits, one twinkling blue, the other glinting black.

  


4.

  


“My dad works at the Ministry and he said that last year, when the Minister for Magic held all those emergency meetings, it was because they found out that Malfoy was actually the incestuous child of his dad and his grandma.”

  


Albus saw Scorpius’ face pale. He saw the way his hands made tight fists. He saw the way his shoulders shook.

  


They were in the middle of the Great Hall. Albus couldn’t afford even the most subtle of curses here. The Ravenclaws didn’t even seem to realise they could be heard by the Slytherin table.

  


In that instant, Albus did the only thing he could do. He reached out, took Scorpius’ clenched fist in his own and held it. Scorpius looked at him with wide eyes.

  


“What are you doing? We can’t hold hands over breakfast! People’ll think we’re… we’re…” Scorpius trailed off, a hint of pink to his cheeks, clearly unable to say it. Albus steeled his courage.

  


It wouldn’t stop people talking. It wouldn’t stop people from saying stupid things about them. Maybe it would make everything worse in the end? But Scorpius attention wasn’t on them anymore, they were on him, solely Albus, and Albus couldn’t help but think that was better somehow.

  


“So? It’s not like they don’t already think things about us anyway? At least this way we can control the conversation,” he said. Scorpius was looking at him like he’d grown an extra head.

  


“Albus, you can’t be serious,” he protested but he wasn’t pulling his hand away, Albus noticed. Slowly, the fist in his hand relaxed.

  


“What if I was? You know, serious?” he asked, trying to keep his voice casual. The double-meaning hung there for a moment.

  


“Are you… are you asking me out? In the middle of the Great Hall?” Scorpius asked, voice slightly squeaky. Albus swallowed, steeling courage that he knew he got from his mum.

  


“Yeah,” he said, as nonchalantly as he could. “Y’know, if you want? Someone told me I should try being honest with you and, well, losers uniting against the world and all that?”

  


“You want to date me because I’m a loser?” Scorpius asked, his face falling. “Because there’s no one else?”

  


“What? No!” Albus realised he screwed it up somehow. “Scorpius, you’re honestly one of the most amazing people I’ve ever met. I just… You know, forget this conversation. It’s a stupid idea.”

  


“No, no,” Scorpius gripped his hand tight. “You really… All those fights you got into recently… Were you defending me?”

  


“I don’t want to answer that question,” Albus replied quietly. Scorpius searched his face and seemed to find the answer anyway.

  


“Albus Severus Potter, you’re  _ so  _ stupid. I’ll go out with you,” Scorpius said, his eyes telling Albus that it wasn’t a good idea to interrupt him. “But not because it’s losers together, or because I need someone to protect my honor or some such nonsense. I’ll do it because I  _ like _ you.”

  


Albus sat there for a moment. He thought back over every stupid thing he’d done over the last few months to get himself into trouble, all the while thinking that burying his feelings for Scorpius and going behind his back with revenge was somehow  _ healthier _ for his friend.

  


And here Scorpius was, holding his hand above the table in the Great Hall, defiant for everyone to see.

  


He’d been an idiot.

  


“I like you too. Sorry I nearly burned Rose and beat up the Gryffindor Beater and then cursed the boy from-”

  


Albus didn’t finish his sentence because Scorpius shoved a croissant into his mouth.

  


“I don’t even want to hear your reasoning. I’m just glad someone talked you into telling me,” Scorpius said, reaching out with his spare hand to awkwardly pour himself orange juice. “Who was it by the way?”

  


Albus shook his head.

  


“It doesn’t matter. All that’s important now is that I don’t get caught the next time I curse someone. You’re going to help me,” he said with a grin. Scorpius rolled his eyes, but he squeezed Albus hand.

  


When someone finally noticed their joined hands, whispers went through the hall. Albus watched the ripples until it reached the Gryffindor table. He saw his brother there, with Rose, and saw them turn as one to look at him.

  


James’ face split into a wide grin.

  


Albus gave his brother a hesitant smile in return. He thought of the two headmasters who had sat behind McGonagall, their eyes proud and knowing, his mother who had taken his brother aside and said something to him, Scorpius own small smile beside him.

  


He had no doubt he’d get in trouble again, but this time, not resorting to curses had yielded much more pleasurable results.


End file.
